


Somewhere Else

by merewiowing



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Community: femslashficlets, Experimental Style, F/F, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merewiowing/pseuds/merewiowing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The train ride yesterday was exactly the same. The train ride tomorrow will be exactly the same. </p><p>Except: there is a woman standing on the platform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Else

The subway train is stuffy. Your coat is too heavy. You feel too hot for February. Your bag is sliding off your shoulder. You can't fix it without risking falling down.

The train ride yesterday was exactly the same. The train ride tomorrow will be exactly the same.

 

The subway train is stuffy. Your bag has slid off your shoulder.

There is a screech, and you feel pulled to the right. Your grip tightens; the woman next to you slips and bumps into you. She mumbles an apology. The door opens. People rush in and out. The door closes.

Through the glass pane, you see a woman standing on the platform. She has long, purple hair. You wonder if she's waiting for someone. The train starts moving again.

You keep looking at the woman until the train enters a tunnel and all you can see through the window is black.

 

You brush a hand through your hair. It's only been a month since you cut it, but it's already reaching to your neck. Too long. You don't have the time or money to make an appointment.

Pink strands fall into your sink. Your head feels lighter.

 

The train is stuffy. You wore a lighter coat. You will feel cold when you go outside. The ride is exactly the same. The train screeches. The door opens, people rush in and out. You see a woman standing on the platform. Your gazes meet; her eyes widen. The train starts moving again.

 

You dream of towers and staircases, white spires and a translucent castle.

 

The train is stuffy. It stops. The door opens. The woman on the platform is wearing a pink coat. You notice her before the crowd even begins to thin. This time, she's facing away from you. The train starts moving.

 

A girl in your class asks you why you wear your hair so short. You shrug. It's more convenient, you say, and excuse yourself.

In the bathroom, you look into the mirror, and try to remember why and when you started cutting it.

 

You see the woman on the platform. You think she wants to take a step. The door closes.

  

You lay awake at night. Your hand lies in front of you. It feels empty. You feel cold.

 

It's March.

 

The woman is wearing a pink coat, darker than your hair, and you wonder if it's not too heavy for the weather. You want to leave the train and ask. You loosen your grip and take a step. The woman's eyes widen. The door closes.

 

You think that you might let your hair grow a little longer.

 

You can't focus in class. Your notebook fills with scribbles. Spirals, crossed lines, flowers. In the corner, you doodle a rose. You look at it for a moment and tear the corner off.

 

You dream of the woman from the platform. She's wearing large, round glasses, and her hair is done up. She smiles at you over a teacup. You feel your mouth move to say something and no sound comes out.

 

The train stops. The woman on the platform is not there. The train starts moving. Your heart sinks; you feel you missed your chance.

 

It's raining and your head is buzzing. Your notebook fills with scribbles. You look down and see the name 'Himemiya' repeated over and over and over.

 

The door opens. The woman is not there. You push through the crowd and stand on the platform. You'll be late. The door closes. The train starts moving. The people leave; you're alone. You move your mouth to say 'Himemiya' and no sound comes out.

 

It's been a month since you cut your hair. You look at your reflection in the mirror and put the scissors down.

 

In your dreams, she wears a red dress. When you wake up, your heart pounds. Your hand is stretched out and empty. You fall back asleep in your small, lonely bed.

She smiles at you and hands you a white rose.

 

Himemiya is standing on the platform; she’s looking at you. You push through the crowd. The door closes.

 

It's April. Instead of a coat, you wear a black jacket.

 

You're standing on the platform. Himemiya is looking at you. Her long hair falls down her shoulders and she isn't wearing glasses. Her smile is different than your dreams.

“I don’t remember you,” you stammer. “But I know you. This doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s been a long time, Utena,” says Himemiya. She sounds like your dreams.

 

She takes your hand. It’s warm and fits inside yours well. Your grip tightens.

 

The two of you leave the platform.

**Author's Note:**

> i missed writing utena fic a lot. so of course i return to it with pretentious experimental bullshit.
> 
> another femslash ficlet, for the (obvious) theme #14, _but me you have forgotten_. title taken from the poem 'train station' by wisława szymborska.


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